Demus and Bret watched from a safe distance in the forest, neither of them saying much as they watched the revelry. Gina had lost her damn mind, Bret had actually asked Demus to sedate her. She would be asleep for at least a few more hours. He hoped she woke up in a better state of mind. He knew what it felt like to fall from a life of wealth and luxury, and he wasn't surprised by Gina's reaction. She hadn't just fallen, she had faceplanted on the cold, hard ground of reality. "Suck it up, buttercup," he had told her, and a second later a large metal bowl had nearly hit him square in the face. She wouldn't shut up about the pup. "Suck it up, buttercup, just shut up about the pup," he muttered, and Demus gave him a weird look. Weirder than his usual look, anyway. "What?" He said to Demus.
"You were rhyming," he replied. "Were you thinking about becoming the next great rap artist?" Demus shook his head. "Don't quit your day job."
